In the Hall of the Mountain King
by Valier
Summary: Explorer John Watson finds the legendary King of the Mountain while lost, and discovers that he isn't quite as he's made out to be.


So, I haven't written in a while, and suddenly the idea for this comes to me while listening to In the Hall of the Mountain King. I apologise for the rustiness of my writing, and any feedback you can give me is most welcome.

Sherlock Holmes © BBC, Arthur Conan-Doyle

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John couldn't believe his eyes. He'd done it. He'd found it, the creature living within the mountain. Burrowed so deeply in the caves and corridors cut into jagged rocks, that no natural light had ever met it's skin - only the dim glow from the crystals and precious gems it hoarded and enchanted. The rumour that it was an excessively possessive creature was no lie either. The large alcove in which it sat was filled with rubies, emeralds, diamonds, even pretty marble rocks, forming a mound in the middle, which it sat atop of. John listened, fascinated as it whispered an incantation, the emerald in it's hand lighting up a soft green. The voice was not as he had expected; it was not hoarse and gravelly, nor was it unintelligible and monstrous. It was almost perfectly human, smooth and silky and baritone all at the same time. He found himself wanting to hear it again.

Just as the voice though, the creature was not as he had expected. He found it unfair to dub the thing an 'it', given how it resembled a human man. Unruly dark curls, cut unevenly and short by his long black claws, which John saw could be contracted to look as his own fingernails did. Ghostly skin, tinged a myriad of colours by his rainbow throne, was flawless around the front of his body. The explorer had to stifle a gasp when he caught a glimpse of his back, however. It was like nothing he had ever seen, jet black veins spreading from shoulder to shoulder, neck to hip, pulsating softly as he breathed. His ears were the same pale shade as his skin, but John found it fascinating how they faded to a sea blue at the pointed tips.

His eyes were the most mesmerising things though. He wished he could forget about everything, and simply stay hidden in this mountain, gazing into the creature's eyes forever. A dazzling blue one moment, and with a simple blink they became a rich gold, a purple nebula, or a ferocious inferno.

And they were focused on him.

John immediately tensed in his place. Surely... he wasn't looking right at him, was he? There were bound to be bats in these caves, or other animals. He was just eyeing them up, deciding whether they were worth hunting or not...

A shiver ran up his spine, every muscle in his body spasming in fear as the creature stood, naked, from his mountain, gracefully walking down it. He was unblinking, his eyes a composed sea green, yet the devilish smile that pulled at its lips sent him in a melancholic cycle. He could gaze into his eyes and be calmed in a way he didn't think possible, but with a mere glance at the sharp teeth poking from behind his lips, he was terrified immediately to his core.

John watched, frozen in place, as the creature approached him, throwing and catching the glowing emerald he still held, swaying his slim hips gently. He couldn't help but think how casual, how human he looked, and that only made it all the more terrifying.

And then he was there, in front of him. A good 5 inches taller than John, he had an extremely good view of his chest and neck, which under closer inspection were also wrapped in smaller, grey veins. They pulsated furiously, mimicking John's heartbeat as he slowly shifted his gaze upwards to meet with the pair of eyes he had not dared move his gaze from until now. The creature's face was set into an unreadable expression, as if he was examining John, eyes raking up and down his body. John struggled to swallow, or indeed to function; his mouth bone dry, his breathing shallow, his hands and knees shaking with nerves and fear. He could almost hear his heart hammering against his ribcage, and the fluttering wings of the butterflies trying to tear their way out of his stomach.

They both stood like that for what could have been years. John, failing to register anything other than the fiery eyes in front of him and his own dread, the creature, his features softening into something both comforting and alarming as he focused on John. It was all broken he spoke, his deep velvet voice breaking the tense silence of the air.

"You're very pretty."

It was all John could do to turn and run. He knew not where he was going, and he didn't care in the slightest - all he wanted was to be away from that creature. He had heard the stories of others who claimed to have encountered him, the King of the Mountain, and how he had ultimately dubbed them precious and beautiful. John had seen first hand, from his collection of jewels, what happened to pretty things. They had been taken to live with him, to act as both company and a possession to him, until they day they were ruled unnattractive or blemished, and discarded somewhere within one of the mountain halls. John had heard about how he would groom them, brush and cut their hair, stroke and cuddle them, sometimes scratch and bloody them if he was in a foul mood.

John hadn't thought he would have appealed to him in that way. He wasn't particularly young, or in any form to be described as a pretty thing. It scared him. He didn't want to stay down here, and lose the faith that he would see sunlight, or his family and friends ever again.

Yet the creature that desired him was equally as captivating to John. His ivory skin, his tousled locks, his immersive eyes. He wanted to know this creature, wanted to touch it, stroke it, care for it.

But fear still dominated him, and he ran, cuts opening on his hands, arms and legs where the sharp rocks in the walls caught him as he stumbled through the mountain networks. Adrenaline pumped through his blood, temporarily stopping his shaking, allowing him to run like he hadn't in years. He collided head-on with many walls and corners, the green light of the creature having been lost far behind him, but he wasn't about to give up running yet. He stumbled past a few more corners, before collapsing in a heap in a small alcove. His breathing was wavering and coming in short bursts, his eyes darting around in the darkness for any sign of the creature. He saw none, and breathed a sigh of relief. Or was it? He felt a tug at his heart at the thought of never seeing the beautiful Mountain King again. He was so confused, so conflicted. He simply wished to faint there and then and wake up in his bed at home from this terrible nightmare. It didn't happen though.

Instead of feeling his head falling and meeting a soft pillow, he felt the presence of another behind him. He didn't need to turn around to know that two golden irises gleamed in the darkness above his shoulder, smiling an unseen grin as long arms were wrapped around his middle. A wet tongue was dragged up his neck, and John shuddered as a chuckle escaped the other's lips.

"Will you stay with me?"


End file.
